ATOTB: October 1986
by riakida
Summary: AU. Dragon pox, fluff, and a mean nurse.


A/N: By request.

**October 1986**

"Damn that blasted Weasley horde," Sirius muttered under his breath as he carefully dabbed a cool, damp facecloth at Harry's forehead, wiping away the sticky beads of sweat that glistened just below the boy's hairline.

The long, Victorian curtains were closed; only a thin ray of pale daylight found its way into the dark room through a coin-shaped hole, which Harry had cut into the fabric a few years ago using a pair of child-safe paper scissors.

Regulus took a few of the empty potion vials that stood like a crowd of glassy spectators on Harry's bedside table. "Things like this happen, it's not their fault," he said in a low tone, "kids get sick, that's how it is. And it's better he had it as a child than as an adult."

He was sure Molly would feel terrible as soon as she learned that Harry must have contracted dragon pox from Percy while he'd been staying at the Burrow overnight, especially because she'd assured Sirius and Regulus that Percy was no longer contagious.

Sirius didn't respond. His gaze was hefted upon the small face that was blinking up at him from under the thick winter duvet, Harry's bright green eyes tired and feverish. Neither of them had found a lot of sleep last night.

Regulus placed a small bowl of lukewarm chicken soup on the spot he'd just cleared. The boy needed not to take in too little fluid, especially in his condition. As much as potions were able to heal, they couldn't replace water and nutrients.

Regulus met Harry's feverish eyes. He gave the boy a warm smile. "How about I take over from Sirius, hmm, Harry? I could read you a story."

"He's supposed to sleep," said Sirius, gently patting Harry's temples with the washcloth. Up close, Harry's skin looked shiny, like cooling wax. "He needs to rest."

Harry's eyes were still fixed upon Regulus yet they hovered in certain spots, seemed to vibrate with the effort of holding his gaze. When he spoke, his voice sounded sore and weak. "Can you tell me a story about Hogwarts?"

Regulus smiled. Usually, Sirius was the expert in the area as barely anyone knew the castle as well as he did. Yet considering the fact that Sirius had been up all night, watching over Harry, Regulus didn't think that Sirius's storytelling abilities were up to their usual standard. "I can do that, pup."

Finally, Sirius turned, glancing up at Regulus who was standing behind him in the dim light coming from the lamp on the bedside table.

Regulus knew what his brother was thinking. Sirius had voiced his concerns earlier when Harry had slept for an hour and Regulus had suggested that Sirius went to bed as well, that Regulus could take care of Harry in the meantime. But Sirius wouldn't budge, he wouldn't give up that spot right next to Harry's bed, barely left the armchair he'd pulled up like he feared that if he left it unguarded for only a moment, Regulus might jump at the opportunity to take his throne.

At first, Regulus had merely thought that this was Sirius being a control freak as usual.

Only after some time, Sirius had come out with the truth.

"You did have chicken pox as a child," he'd said, "but you didn't have dragon pox."

"So what?"

Sirius swallowed hard. "Just stay away as much as possible, all right?"

Regulus sighed, put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Look, Siri, dragon pox isn't the end of the world. Usually, it's not even dangerous, especially not for people in full health -"

He was interrupted before he could finish this sentence.

"I said you stay away." Sirius' voice had turned hard, making it clear that as far as he was concerned, there wasn't going to be a discussion about this.

And now that Sirius was looking at Regulus like that, Regulus could sense his brother struggle with himself. He studied the bags under Sirius's eyes. Even though Sirius wouldn't admit it, Regulus knew that this wasn't really about Regulus not having had dragon pox as a child, and Harry was already getting better as well. No, people's worst fears were always the ones that they had already encountered. This - this was about the Potters.

Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. Dragon pox had carried them off within the matter of a few weeks. Mrs. Potter's face flashed up in front of Regulus' inner eye, her dark, deep-set eyes, greenish skin stretching over her skull, thin like paper, death already written all over her features. Unlike her husband, who had died after a few short days of intense fever trapping him in a semiconscious delirium, she'd been responsive for most of the time almost up until her death. Sirius had sat with her up until the very end, aged twenty when he was orphaned for the second time in his life. This time, it would be forever. He'd been desperate to soak up every last moment with her, every last bit of that special sense of comfort only your parents can give you, even as she lay dying next to him.

Regulus understood all that. It wasn't like the Potters' sudden death hadn't affected him as well. Yet he also needed Sirius to see reason - the situation they were in now simply didn't compare. Harry was strong, he was young, he was healthy.

And yes, Harry was all they had left of them, but Harry had been through far worse. Dragon pox was a joke compared to what Harry had survived in the past.

"Siri," Regulus said softly, "you can't stay awake forever or you'll end up sick and so weak that I'll have to take care of the both of you."

"Nonsense. I'm not gonna get sick," Sirius grumbled like it was a ludicrous thought that he too was human, that he too needed rest.

It took almost six more hours until Sirius was finally so worn out that he fell asleep sitting in his armchair, his arms and head resting on Harry's bed. After days of watching over the child and barely sleeping, his body had finally surrendered. His mouth was slightly open as he slept and he was drooling on the bedsheets.

This was when Regulus knew that he had won. He allowed Sirius to sleep for a while, watching over them both with a peculiar sense of triumph over having been right. When it was time for Harry to have dinner and another set of the potions that Madam Pomfrey had prescribed, he woke Sirius by shaking him gently.

"Go to bed, now, I'll take over," Regulus whispered in a tone he usually didn't take with Sirius, his voice almost authoritative, yet his hand on Sirius' shoulder squeezing softly.

Sirius must've been half asleep still because he obeyed wordlessly, not even wiping the drool from the side of his mouth. His steps were heavy and unsteady as he dragged himself downstairs to the second landing where his bedroom was, which was then followed by the muffled sound of him flopping down on his bed, likely asleep before he even hit the mattress, not even caring to close the door to his room.

With one hand, Regulus carefully set a steaming cup of lemon tea on Harry's bedside table next to the boy's glasses, then placed the back of his other hand on Harry's small forehead. The fever had gone down and Harry was strong enough to sit up by himself. He was hungry too, which was a good sign, and he protested against the potions, which was even better. Regulus forced himself to keep a straight expression as Harry pulled an adorably annoyed face after he was advised to strip down to his underwear. When Regulus inspected the fluid-filled bumps covering Harry's skin, he was pleased to see that most of the popped ones had begun to crust over and heal. Now that Harry was feeling better, however, his hands were constantly wandering to scratch the rash, which caused the blisters to open once more and leak. Regulus went on to rub some soothing ointment all over Harry's torso as well as on his arms and legs, telling Harry all about the Room of Requirement in the meantime while he waited for the painful wounds to close up.

"What if I wanted it to be full of sweets from Honeydukes?"

Regulus chuckled. "Filled up to the ceiling with chocolate frogs, droubles and fizzing wizbees, hmm?"

"Yeah." Harry flashed him a gap-toothed grin.

"I bet Dumbledore would approve of it."

"He would," Harry agreed as he flopped onto his stomach so Regulus could attend to the rash on his back. "He always gives me lemon drops. Maybe he gets them from there."

* * *

A few days later, Harry was a lot better. His skin was still a little greenish if you inspected it at it very closely and under natural light, but in comparison to how Harry had looked only a few days ago, covered from head to toe in a red, leaking rash, he looked almost normal again.

They were having dinner in the basement, the flickering glow from the candles on the dusty chandelier suggesting that it was later in the evening that it actually was, when Regulus felt a hot tickling sensation rising in his nose. He took a small sip of water, stole a quick glance at Sirius and Harry, both of whom were discussing how dinosaurs were different from dragons. After he'd gotten better, Harry had developed a keen interest in dragons and had been begging Sirius to take him to see one for real ever since. Sirius, however, didn't seem all too keen to expose his six-year-old godson to the fiery breath of a dragon.

"How about we visit Diagon Alley and pick up a few books about dragons from Flourish and Blotts," Regulus suggested.

Harry, who usually loved visiting Diagon Alley, made a face. "But I wanna see a real one," he whined. Books simply couldn't replace the real thing.

Sirius sighed. "Dragons can be quite… hot-tempered," he said, twisting his fork so the pasta on his plate curled around the tines, "they're nothing for children, really."

Regulus' lips twitched. He opened his mouth to say that he agreed regarding the dragons' fiery temper but was cut short as his nose tickled again and he let loose a big sneeze; a flurry of sparks shooting from his nose, almost setting the tablecloth on fire.

Harry looked at him with big eyes, then giggled, looking from Regulus to Sirius and back. "Do it again!"

Regulus quickly covered his nose with his hand.

Sirius had been distracted by something in his food that looked suspiciously similar to mold and thus hadn't seen what had happened, his face screwed up in disgust as he set a greyish piece of carrot aside. He was almost sure that Kreacher added these things to his plate on purpose even though so far, he'd never caught him red-handed. And Reg, well… Reg always took Kreacher's side anyway. Sirius could already imagine his face, looking at him like he was just being paranoid, saying _so what if that carrot is a little old, it__'s not the end of the world. It's not like Kreacher knew that it would end up on your plate._

Regulus sneezed again.

Sirius blinked, giving his brother an odd look as he thought he'd seen some movement from the corner of his eyes, light and fast. "What was that?" he asked, forcing his attention away from the moldy carrot and shifting his eyes onto his family.

"Sparks," Harry said happily. "Reggie is sneezing sparks!"

All blood drained from Sirius' face. "Is that true? Regulus?"

"It's nothing," Regulus said quickly, "probably just a cold or a very mild form of -"

"Sparks, that's dragon pox," Sirius said, his throat tight suddenly. "That is how it started with Mr. Potter."

Harry's face fell at his godfather's serious expression.

"Siri," Regulus began, "don't… don't overreact, okay? So maybe it's a mild form of dragon pox but that's really no reason to worry -"

"For how long have you known that you were sick?" Sirius' voice was sharp.

"I thought it was just a cold," Regulus said defensively, stifling another sneeze. Smoke drifted from his nostrils and curled in the air.

Sirius shoved his chair back and got up, raised his wand and summoned their cloaks. "We're going to see Madam Pomfrey. Now." His face had turned ashen.

Regulus groaned as his cloak came floating into the room and draped itself around his shoulders. "Come on… I'll- I'll lie down for a bit and I'm sure I'll feel better afterward. I don't even have a rash."

Sirius didn't look convinced. "Get your shoes off."

"What?"

"Shoes off. Socks too."

Hesitantly, Regulus untied his shoes and pulled them off along with his socks. He was surprised to see that his feet had adopted a dark green color and blisters were starting to form between his toes. "Uh…" Those definitely hadn't been there when he'd had a shower in the morning.

"No rash, huh," Sirius said crossly.

* * *

Sirius hardly listened to Madam Pomfrey's attempts to reassure him that, considering Regulus' health, age, and overall constitution, she thought it highly unlikely that the illness would take a more serious turn. As soon as they were back home, Sirius prescribed him instant bed rest. Regulus' protests, that he was fine and that Sirius didn't have to worry, fell on deaf ears. Even more so than with Harry, it seemed that the time of the Potters' death replayed in front of Sirius' inner eye, Mrs. Potter's last moments in an endless loop, Mr. Potter on his deathbed, never having woken from his delirium. In the end, Regulus relented for Sirius' sake. He even allowed Sirius to tuck him into bed, which was something that hadn't happened in at least ten years but as long as it made Sirius feel better, Regulus wasn't going to argue about it. There was, however, something decidedly belligerent about the way how Sirius slammed the potions on the table next to Regulus' bed and how Sirius grabbed the armchair that stood next to the window and dragged it across the room before lowering himself into the cushioned seat and sitting there in deadly silence, glowering at his brother.

"That's what I call service," Regulus joked when Sirius handed him a cool glass of water to wash down the stale taste that the dragon pox cure had left in his mouth. "Now all I need is a foot massage and this is officially the best holiday ever." He wriggled his green toes.

Sirius' lips thinned. "You're disgusting."

"You didn't tell Harry he was disgusting!"

"That's because Harry's six and he's adorable. You, on the other hand, don't have that advantage."

"Harry thought my sneezes were cool."

"Harry also thinks that asparagus is dinosaur poo."

"I think it's brilliant that he likes dragons. Dragons are a lot like serpents, you know."

"No, they're not."

As though he'd sensed that they were talking about him, Harry entered the room, climbed on Regulus' bed and sat next to him, regarding him with an expression far too serious for a six-year-old. "Are you very sick?"

"Not very much," Regulus reassured the child.

Harry opened his right hand, revealing a slightly disfigured chocolate frog.

Regulus smiled. "For me?"

Harry nodded. "So you'll be better soon."

"Thank you, pup. Wanna share it?"

Harry smiled. He broke the chocolate frog in two and handed the larger piece to Regulus, nibbling on the other one. The chocolate melted and the boy ended up smearing it all over his mouth and hands and from there on onto his pajamas and the bedsheets.

"What do you think, Harry, should Sirius read us a story?" Regulus asked. He stifled a groan as he sat up, his entire body was aching horribly.

Harry nodded eagerly and snuggled up to him, which caused Sirius to automatically sit up a little straighter. "Keep some distance, Harry. I don't want you to get sick again."

"He can't," Regulus responded, "he's immune now."

"I wasn't speaking to you," Sirius growled.

Regulus' brows shot up. "All right, all right! I'll shut up."

Harry had picked up on Sirius' tone but instead of obeying his godfather, the small boy gave him a defiant look and refused to move away. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licked the melted chocolate off.

"Now, Harry James."

Reluctantly, Harry moved a few inches away. "Can you read us some more of the tales of Beedle the Bard?"

Sirius sighed. He'd read the book twice already when Harry had been ill, by now he could easily recite the tales by heart.

* * *

"…and none of them ever knew or suspected that the Fountain's waters carried no enchantment at all," Sirius finished after almost an hour of reading. His mouth felt dry and his voice rather monotone, letters and words blurring into each other as he hurried to reach the end of the page.

Harry had fallen asleep, his rosy cheek resting on Regulus' shoulder, his glasses had slipped off slightly. Compared to Harry, Regulus seemed to turn greener by the minute.

Regulus attempted a grin at Sirius but his face was frozen in a pained half-grimace. "One more story?" His eyes were so feverish it was like they were bearing a hole to his insides.

Sirius closed the book quietly. They were approaching the tipping point, Regulus' fever was bound to break soon if he only got enough sleep. "No. It's time for bed." Sirius waved his wand, sent the book floating back into Harry's bedroom. Approaching the child, he carefully removed the boy's glasses before he scooped him up into his arms.

Regulus sighed dramatically. "If you're gonna take him away then I need a hot water bottle."

"Nope. No hot water bottles for you today, Sir," Sirius whispered and left the room, the sleeping child's skinny limbs dangling like a puppet's as Sirius carried him in his arms, Harry's warm breath a whisper in Sirius' neck. The man returned not long after, threw a handful of ice cubes into the cup of lukewarm water that stood next to Regulus' bed. Then, he chucked a cool, damp towel at Regulus. The younger man attempted to catch it but his arms appeared to be achingly heavy, slowing his reactions down so that his hands only caught air. The towel hit him in the face and he scowled as he rearranged it so that it supported his neck.

Sirius crossed the room, cast a look out of the window. Rain was creating puddles on the asphalt, which, in the sparse, fading daylight, reflected a spotty image of the ever-same rainclouds that covered the sky above London like a thick layer of grey mold. He closed the curtains, the heavy fabric gliding almost noiselessly across the windows. The room turned dark.

Regulus reached over to the bedside table, switched the light on.

"Oh no, mister," Sirius said, turning around, "it's bedtime for you as well." He walked back to the bed, reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a potion vial.

Regulus made a face as he recognized the sleeping potion for what it was. "I don't need it," he protested.

Sirius scoffed. "Like I give a shit. Take it, now." He held it out. "Bottoms up."

Reluctantly, Regulus took the vial and swallowed the bitter potion as quickly as possible, grimacing at the taste. "You could've flavored it, you know!"

Sirius took the empty vial from Regulus and slid it back into his pocket. "You didn't ask me to."

"Mean," Regulus muttered.

"Lie down," Sirius ordered. He took his brother's duvet and shook it out to puff it up and redistribute the filling.

"No need to tuck me in."

Sirius ignored this as he spread out the duvet and proceeded to tuck it tightly around his brother. Regulus kicked the end of his duvet up so that his green toes stuck out once more.

"Just like I said, mean," he complained as he fished one of the ice cubes out of the cup and put it in his mouth, "I take back what I said earlier. This isn't a nice holiday at all. And just so you know, I'm giving this hospital zero stars out of five because of the mean, heartless nurse."

"Maybe if nurses were generally meaner, people would take better care of themselves and not contract dragon pox like some disobedient twit I know," Sirius said harshly. He placed the back of his hand on his brother's forehead – it was warm enough to justify Regulus' feverish look but not hot enough to warrant another fever-reducing potion.

"It's not like I did it on purpose." Regulus yawned.

"You tricked me. I told you to stay away from Harry while he was sick. You shouldn't have taken my spot that night."

"I'm sorry, all right?" Regulus turned to his side, his eyelids growing heavy. His eyes blinked very slowly as if it required an exorbitant amount of effort to keep them open. "I just wanted to be nice."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Don't be cross, please," Regulus mumbled into his pillow. "It's just a mild form of dragon… dragon pox anyway…"

Sirius had to strain his ears to catch his brother's words. "I'll be cross if I hear one more word out of you. If you're not better by tomorrow, you can consider yourself grounded."

A weak chuckle. Then, Regulus' eyes closed, and his breathing evened out.

Sirius sank back into his armchair. Through a gap in the curtains, he could see that the street lanterns were flickering to life, their yellow light was drawing a pencil-thin line on Regulus' bedroom floor.

He remembered the time when he'd had dragon pox. He'd been about as old as Harry now, five, maybe six years old. His parents had put him under quarantine for a week. He'd been completely on his own except for when it was time for meals or potions, both of which were brought to him by Kreacher. He had never felt so alone in his life. That was what Sirius remembered about it most - dust particles flying through a sunlit room whenever Kreacher appeared and then slowly settling on the ground; the sound of his three-year-old brother sobbing on the other side of the door, and Sirius trying to hold back tears, his voice sore in his throat as he weakly reassured his baby brother that he was fine, that everything was going to be fine. The three-year-old had been super clingy afterward, barely letting Sirius out of sight. Not that Sirius had minded.

He regarded his sleeping brother for a while, quietly. So grown but still his kid, somehow. He turned the light off before reaching out and gently touching Regulus' forehead once more, brushing black strands of hair out of the greenish face. His brother's head was a tad bit cooler now_. _The fever was breaking._ Bloody dragons_, Sirius thought grimly, Reg was right, they were like serpents, sort of, only that they had wings and exhaled fire. And they transmitted dragon pox. That was reason enough for him to decide once and for all that he couldn't stand them.


End file.
